


Sick as a Dog

by bubblebucky



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Sick Character, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:13:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblebucky/pseuds/bubblebucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They should've done something the instant Steve got hit with the dart, because now the doctors were throwing around phrases like "too late" and "if only he'd been brought in earlier." But how could they have brought him in earlier when they didn't know?</p><p>Well, Bruce did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mari_Knickerbocker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_Knickerbocker/gifts).



They should've done something the instant that Steve got hit with the dart. That's where it started, isn't it? God, Bruce hopes so. Guilt already roars green and insatiable deep in his gut, and another missed sign would rip him apart.

They should've done something when Bruce, a few instants before he was big and green, saw Steve flinch across the park and rip a dart of his neck. He should've done something more than ask, "You okay, Cap?"

After all, with Steve, the answer would always be, "I'm fine." This time, he continued with, "Iron Man, try to keep the AIM guys within the park. Bruce, let Hulk out but try to keep the smashing around this area and out of the city."

He should've done something, but instead he nodded and did his job.

They should've done something when Steve stumbled on the field, blinking vigorously and swaying on his feet. Even muddled with rage, Hulk knew something was wrong with how Steve faltered, how the super soldier gasped out over the com.

Hulk might've been the only one to think anything of it, because he saw it happen. But then some AIM cronies fired a handful of guns at Hulk (as if that would do _anything_ ) and he was sufficiently distracted from the wavering soldier. It was fine. Steve was lobbing his shield with break-neck accuracy and force before anyone else could notice.

They should've done something when the fight was over and the last of the mustard yellow AIM people were being hauled off to some SHIELD prison or another. Bruce was exhausted and really hungry, but he was still lucid enough to remember Steve being hit and still had snatches of seeing him stumble during battle. That's never happened before.

"Hey, Steve, did you get checked out?" He asked him as he passed. Steve looked at Bruce, slouched with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and guilt seeped into his features.

"I'm fine, Bruce. Are you okay? I'm sorry for bringing Hulk out, I just--I didn't want AIM to make it to the city and--"

"Hey, hey, I'm okay. Really. Just a little hungry, but that's nothing new," Bruce's casual statement was contradicted by his stomach making a loud rumble, and Steve didn't look very reassured. Or maybe, he looked a little ill, but that was probably Bruce's imagination (now, of course, he knew that it wasn't).

He forgot what he was asking Steve about, because the super soldier dropped a handful of protein bars in his lap--and he was _so hungry_ \--with a tired smile and a murmur to get some rest. Bruce tore into one and felt like he was forgetting something.

They should've done something _before_ Steve was collapsing on the ground with his eyes rolling back into his head, because now the doctors (the real medical doctors, because despite what his teammates think, he's not actually one) are throwing around phrases like "too late," and "if he'd been brought in earlier."

"Earlier?" Tony snaps, a little defensively. "We just found out something is wrong!"

"Stark, calm down," Natasha says, but her expression is twisted with something between concern and anger, and Bruce doesn't want to be anywhere near that.

"I'm not gonna fucking _calm down!"_ Tony shouts, and it's only alarming because he looks halfway to tears, which is a new thing for the billionaire. "Cap is--he's _dying_ , and these assholes are trying to blame us for it. We didn't know, okay! How could we have fucking known?"

"I knew."

There are a few moments of silence as Bruce's words sink in. Then, all cold fury--and this is not a side of her that Bruce has ever wanted to feel the wrath of--Natasha speaks.

_"What?"_

Bruce can already feel himself sweating, and distantly he doesn't think this is a very good situation for peace of mind. "I-I saw him get hit by a dart, right before--he said it was nothing. I guess it wasn't."

"Obviously not!" Clint snaps, just as Thor asks, "Why would you keep this from us?"

Bruce rubs his chin and can't meet their gazes. "The serum makes him invulnerable to nearly every poison and sickness in existence. I thought he was fine."

It's obvious that anger is roiling shallowly below the surface of the group, all of it currently aimed at Bruce, but then Tony, of all people, says, "Alright. _Fine_. That's--I get it. We all thought Cap was invincible. We can't change it now."

It's not forgiveness, really, but it diffuses the time bombs that the rest of the team had turned into. Bruce wants to let out a sigh of relief, but with Steve still in the hospital, writhing and mumbling incoherently, there's no relief to be found.

"We should sit with him," Clint finally says after a few more moments of sitting in the waiting room. He's muscles are all tense, and when he raises his head to look at the rest of them, he looks ready for a fight. "He always sits with us when we get--"

"I agree that we should be with our captain at this grave time," Thor says, and that seems to settle the matter. Bruce, walking behind the rest of them because he still feels like he's on some sort of probation, sees Thor clap Clint on the back after the archer gives him a thankful look.

"Captain Rogers is down the hall," The nurse at the nurse station says, brown eyes flickering across the group, both uneasy and awed. "But I've been instructed to let no one see him--"

"We're the fucking Avengers," Tony growls and strides past her. Steve isn't with them, so there's no apology as they all brush past her and pretend to be calm as they half-run down the hall and burst into the room where Steve is being treated.

Immediately, Bruce is simultaneously glad and regretful that they came.

"Hold him down!" A female doctor orders, face harried as Steve wrenches out of the restraints-- _restraints_ , Bruce growls in his mind--they had him in and thrashes around, eyes glazed over and wild as he stares at things only he can see. "I said _hold him down!"_

The final shout makes the Avengers spring into action. Smoothly, Bruce moves the doctor (Dr. Fitch, her name tag reads) out of the way--she was clearly doing more harm than good with her shouting--and Thor grips Steve's wrists firmly, holding them to the soldier's sides with the utmost care. Clint and Tony each slide into place on either side of Steve's bed, while Natasha takes her place by his head and gently slides her fingers into his sweaty hair.

" _Shh_ , Steve," She says lowly. She seems a little uncomfortable, displaying affection in front of so many people--a voice inside her brain still hisses _don't show weakness_ \--but nonetheless she runs her fingers repetitively through the blond locks, murmuring, "It's okay, Steve. We're here. Calm down. It's okay. _Shh_."

Eventually, Steve stops straining against Thor's grip, and instead turns his feverish stare to Natasha. Bruce is almost relieved, almost sure that he's with them once more, but then he croaks, "Ma?"

The air seems to have left the room. Natasha's fingers stumble in their movement, and it's a moment before she can say, "No, it's Natasha. Do you know who I am?"

He doesn't seem to hear her, though, because he says, "Ma, 'm sorry."

"I'm not--" Natasha is surprised by the thickness of her throat.

"Don' mean to get sick 'n waste all the money. I'm real sorry. 'M gonna... gonna make it up t'you."

"Oh, _Steve_ ," She removes her hands from his hair to rest them on his face, rubbing the two spots pink with fever that are high on his cheeks, and Steve leans into the touch.

"Ma," He pauses, just long enough to twist his face into a grimace. "I'll be okay."

They do not sound like the words of a boy confident that he'll live. Natasha wants him to be coherent, so that Steve can blush and cringe and apologize for making her feel things, but then his eyes slide shut and he's sleeping. He's still so hot under her hands.

"Holy shit," Tony breaths, rubbing a hand over his mouth and chin. " _Shit_."

"Yeah," Clint agreed.

There is a bout of silence, then Bruce turns to the doctor, who'd they'd all ignored since she was pushed out of the way. "What's happening to him?"

With all five of the waking Avengers staring at her, Dr. Fitch is understandably speechless before she takes a deep breath and throws herself into a more professional persona.

"There's a foreign substance in his bloodstream," She starts.

"Yeah, we know--he was darted," Clint crosses his arms and sneaks a slightly bitter look at Bruce. He doesn't mention it.

"Yes, well, the _dart_ must've contained a toxin of some sort--I've sent a blood sample to the labs, and they'll be able to isolate it and, hopefully, find a cure. As far as we can tell, the only thing it's doing is causing a fever, but we don't know if it's the poison or just his serum trying to burn it out."

"Just a fever--he's hallucinating!" Tony splutters, gesturing madly at the unconscious super soldier. "He thinks the red-head of death is his _mom!"_

Natasha glares when Tony looks at her, but keeps her position by Steve's side and doesn't argue.

"It's a high fever."

It's all Bruce can do to keep from rolling his eyes at the doctor's statement; Tony doesn't bother.

"Is there nothing we can do to help the captain?" Thor asks, face screwed up in concern. He keeps one hand on Steve's wrist, grip gentle but grounding.

"All we can do is wait for the lab results," Dr. Fitch says calmly.

"That's--" Tony cuts himself off and breathes deeply, unclenching his fists. When he continues, he's a lot more steady. "Fine."

Dr. Fitch seems to think she won something, because she says, "You can all go back to wait in the waiting room, if you'd like--"

Natasha doesn't let her finish. "We aren't leaving."

"But--"

"No."

It could be the assassin's reputation, or the way she hovers protectively over Steve, (or maybe the threatening presence of the rest of the Avengers in the room) but Dr. Fitch appears to realize she's fighting a losing battle and sighs. "A nurse will be checking on him every half hour or so. Let us know if something happens."

There are enough chairs for two others besides Natasha to sit, but no one fills the seats. They are much too busy pacing anxiously, because Steve is, if not changing, regressing.

He's almost wholly unconscious, with startling bouts of fevered hallucinations every hour or so. Usually, it's more of the same ( _"Ma, 's real hot,"_ ) but sometimes he thinks he sees Bucky or Peggy, and those are the worst.

When Clint accidentally startles him into moderate consciousness by tripping into the corner of the hospital bed, it's Bucky.

"Buck," Steve chokes out, with watery eyes and a raspy voice, and everyone flinches. "What's goin' on?"

"Everything's okay, Cap," Clint says, trying for soothing but just sounding tense.

Steve's eyebrows furrow. "...m'I dead?"

"No," Tony says, too quickly. Steve's fevered eyes turn to him, and he swallows roughly. "You're not dead or dying."

"You are," Steve's face crumples in grief (and probably pain) a little, and Natasha is ever so gentle and subtle as she swipes the tears from under his eyes when they fall. "Buck--I let you fall."

Everyone knows the story. How Bucky Barnes gave his life protecting Steve. How he fell off a train into the Alps. The knowledge doesn't soften the blow of Steve's guilt.

"C'mon, buddy, that wasn't your fault," Clint says, sounding a little desperate. No one blames him. It's been nearly thirteen hours of watching Steve either whimper in his sleep or hallucinate, and they're all feeling a little fragile.

Instead of answering Clint, Steve says, "Think I'm sick."

For a moment they hope that he's finally coherent, but then it's squashed when he continues, "I don' think I'm gonna be able to go on our date tonight. 'M sorry."

There's nothing they can do for him--not for his sickness and certainly not for this lost lover--but Steve is staring at them with love and delirium in his eyes.

Clint pats his foot and looks up at the ceiling, emotion barely reigned in. "Don't worry," He says. "We can go another time."

"Love you, Bucky," Steve mumbles, then he falls back asleep.

It's a blow to the stomach, one after the other. Bruce looks to Tony, wiping his face tiredly. "Did you know?"

"That Captain America was gay for his best friend?" Tony tries for his usual degrading humor, but the joke falls flat. "No."

No one else speaks, but they seem to draw closer to Steve after that. They think it's the worst thing they'll hear all day, the revelation that Steve lost more than they knew.

They're proven wrong, though, of course they are, when Dr. Fitch comes in (they all stand, because it's been seven hours, now, since Steve last woke and they're anxious) and says, "There's nothing we can do. We don't know what the toxin was, but we think it was engineered specifically to overheat Captain Rogers' body until he died. The fever it created is burning him up from the inside out. It's cooking his brain--and we have no way to stop it."

It sounds incredibly painful. The constant grimace that's taken over Steve's young countenance supports that. Natasha thoughtlessly runs her thumb along his brow, gently coaxing it to relax from its furrowed state, and doesn't speak.

"What do you mean?" Clint finally asks. "He's--he'll be okay, right?"

It's an incredibly naïve-sounding question, but they were all thinking it.

The doctor shakes her head. "He's in a tremendous amount of pain. The toxin is overwhelming the serum. He shouldn't--won't wake up from this."

"But he's--he's Captain America," Tony argues feebly.

"The most we can do is... put him out of his misery."

The doctor's words float through the air in the room--now silent, save Steve's pained breathing--and the moments that they are fully comprehended are clearly visible on the Avengers' faces.

While not the first to understand, Clint is the first to respond. "You're suggesting that we, what, _put him down?"_

 _Like a dog_ , Bruce thinks, surprised to be this heartbroken, and he would laugh (arguably hysterically) if he could get a decent breath into his winded lungs. _Sick as a dog._

"--Not gonna fucking _euthanize_ Captain America!" That's Tony, uncharacteristically serious and spitting mad. He jerks out of Bruce's grip when the man puts a hand on his shoulder, and instead he takes a step towards Dr. Fitch. "If you come near him, I swear--"

"Stark!" Natasha snaps, voice low, but she never had needed to be loud to get anyone's attention before and this time is no different. Tony steps back, still glaring, but he allows Bruce to subtly angle himself between the billionaire and the wide-eyed doctor. Natasha nods, seemingly satisfied, but her eyes are icy as she turned her gaze to the woman. "We are not going to put down Steve."

There is no room left for argument, but the doctor still opens her mouth, wanting to disagree. Her eyes dart to Bruce, like she would get some support out of a fellow doctor (even if he really wasn't that kind of doctor), but he is a little bit green at the suggestion, so she gives up quickly, letting her mouth fall shut. She nods.

"Glad we're in agreement," Natasha says. Her face goes momentarily pained as Steve lets out a whimper from the hospital bed but otherwise is stony and calm as she demands another option.

"We could--I don't know--freeze him?" The doctor suggests helplessly, but the green tinge returns to Bruce's cheeks--because Steve has shared with him, in the early restless hours of the morning, that he still has trouble handling the cold, still has nightmares about the ice--so she quickly backtracks. "Or cool him down somehow. We need to lower his temperature--and fast."

Bruce's forehead is creased with concentration. "Can you... chill his IV fluid, maybe? Try to cool him down from the inside?"

The suggestion, while feeble, seems to be good enough for a desperate doctor. Nurses quickly get to work setting the temperature to fifty-five degrees, and everyone waits with baited breath for a response.

Dr. Fitch says, "This really isn't just a matter of the Captain being overheated. It's a very complex poison that we couldn't--"

"Doctor! His fever is going down!" A nurse shouts, interrupting what Dr. Fitch was saying, but no one cares.

Steve's eyes are open--glassy and obviously not seeing them, but open--and there's a sudden weight lifted off of Bruce's chest, even if the battle is not yet over.

"Steve," Bruce chokes out. He wasn't even aware that he's tearing up, but he wasn't alone. Clint's relieved smile is a little watery, Tony is wiping at his face while snarking loudly, and Natasha--well, Natasha never cries, but Bruce has to admit she looks a little misty.

Thor, on the other hand, is shouting as they'd just won some great battle. They sort of did.

"Bucky," Steve slurs, face sweaty but pulled into a tired smile. "I told you I didn' wan' a party."

It is still awfully sad, hearing Steve mumble about his past while knowing what happened, but Bruce is too relieved to really feel anything but joy.

Clint pats Steve's ankle fondly and says, "We threw you one anyway. Surprise!"

"'M too tired for a party."

"Me too," Bruce mutters, before speaking up and saying, "Get some rest, Steve. We'll be here when you wake up."

Steve lets out a sigh and settles back in his bed. They think he's asleep--asleep and not unconscious, the nurses reassure them--until he mumbles, "Thanks, Bruce. Love you guys."

It's the sickness tearing down all his walls and making him vulnerable, Bruce knows it. They all know it. And if Steve hadn't nearly died, they probably would've rolled their eyes or played it off like it wasn't such a big deal.

He did, though. "Yeah," Tony says lowly, so just the six of them can hear. "Us too, Steve."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Mari_Knickerbocker, who is amazing and awesome. 
> 
> also, sorry, I didn't really edit this. it was a spur-of-the-moment, chocolate-fueled blur for me

Steve comes back to the tower on a Thursday.

He does it around noon when everyone should be at work, but there's still crowds of paparazzi and fans teeming around the front entrance to the tower who shout and wave and flash their cameras at Steve and his team when they get out of the car slowly. Steve smiles at them, exhaustion still evident in his pale skin and sunken eyes. He handles it much better then Bruce thinks that he himself would have.

They all, of course, fuss over him. Tony won't stop offering his blankets, Thor keeps trying to hug him, and Clint continuously thrusts food at him in a way too forceful to be casual. Natasha simply keeps a supportive hand on some part of Steve at all times--his hair, the back of his neck, his arm. And Bruce, for one, tries to give him space, because no matter how much Steve had reassured him that it isn't his fault, guilt is still a long-familiar friend again.

They're being obvious about it, Bruce knows. Steve isn't an idiot. He surely has recognized the change in the way his friends handle him, how much more _gentle_ they are with him. Bruce wishes it was just because of the way they almost lost him--sure, that's part of it--but also because they didn't realize how much Steve was hurting. And now, against Steve's will, the whole of the Avengers know something that he probably hasn't told anyone. God knows it wasn't in any history books.

It's one hell of a situation.

"Bruce," Steve says, a little raspy but clear and coherent. It's a far cry from the broken boy on the hospital bed. "Can I talk to you?"

Bruce hesitates. He wants to say no, because he isn't good with these sort of situations. Steve and him aren't even that good of friends. He shouldn't be the one who tells him.

He owes Steve, though, so he says, "Yeah, of course."

Natasha, who had been reading a book silently with her legs draped across Steve's, gets up and leaves after a meaningful look from Steve. She, too, knows what is about to go down, and shoots Bruce a sharp smile with something like reassurance. It doesn't make him any less anxious.

"So, uh, what's on your mind, Cap?" Bruce asks, playing dumb. "Feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, which isn't a surprise, and neither is the inevitable, "So, what happened when I was out?"

Bruce flinches. He's a moron, though, when he isn't a genius, and attempts to avoid the question, with the same old story they told him before: He got shot with a dart, the poison was cooking his brain, he almost died, he didn't.

Steve sighs and rolls his eyes, and suddenly he looks sixty-five years younger as he raises his eyebrows at Bruce in a cut-the-bullshit sort of way.

Steve is just impossible to lie to. "You hallucinated," Bruce starts, looking resolutely at the heavy blanket that Tony snuck into Steve's bed. "While you were in the hospital, your fever was too high, and you hallucinated."

"Okay," Steve says, eyebrows furrowed. He's confused, maybe a little concerned, but he doesn't seem to get it yet. "And?"

Bruce is sweating. "You thought Natasha was your mom."

Steve's face falls, just a little, and he swallows roughly before nodding. "Shit. I should probably apologize, huh?"

"What? No, Steve, it wasn't your fault. You were sick."

"But it must've been weird for her, having me, y'know, be like that," Steve blushes. "No wonder you guys were treating me like that."

"No, Steve, that's not..." He can get out. Bruce can walk out of the room and let Steve think that they're treating him like glass because they think he's a mama's boy. Which really isn't a problem, but okay. But it would be wrong, wouldn't it? And he's already messed up with Steve enough. "Cap, you told us about Bucky."

Steve freezes. Then, weakly, he chokes out, _"What?"_

Bruce is terrible. He's terrible and cruel and this is all his fault--"You thought Clint was Bucky and told him you were too sick for the date."

Steve looks like he's going to pass out. "No--it wasn't like--we'd--Bucky had these double dates, alrigh'--it wasn't--we _weren't_."

He's trembling, hyperventilating, lost in panic, and Bruce curses before going to Steve and putting his hands on the larger man's shoulders carefully, wincing as Steve flinches away. He wishes, not for the first or last time, that he had just done something before this all happened.

"Cap, calm down. You're okay. Everything is okay. Deep breaths--yes, like that, good job. You're doing great," Bruce speaks softly and firmly to him until Steve is once again breathing normally, and then he steps back. Steve doesn't look at him. Bruce offers, "Even if you were... together, we're all alright with it. It's not a problem or anything. Being gay is fine. Everything's fine. It's--I'm just sorry that we had to find out like this. You know, if it was true."

The words, as butchered and awkward as they were, allows Steve to relax just the slightest. He still won't look at Bruce, though, as he says, "Thanks."

Bruce is surprised by how much he means it when he says, "Anytime, Cap. Let me know if you need anything."

Steve nods, fists clenching Tony's blanket.

Natasha enters the room as Bruce leaves, making questioning eye contact, and Bruce just shrugs. With a nod, she goes back to her position next to Steve, legs tangled in his, and the door closes just as Bruce hears, "So, uh, my mom, huh?"

Natasha's sharp, kind laugh follows into the hall.


End file.
